


Girls on Film

by kinkyandcreepy



Category: Boyfriend to Death (Visual Novels)
Genre: Filming, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Knives, Light Bondage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-06 08:23:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20288401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinkyandcreepy/pseuds/kinkyandcreepy
Summary: Wider, baby, smile, and you just made a million.





	Girls on Film

**Author's Note:**

> second person perspective. mc is basically my self-insert (me being a trans male), but using gender-neutral language so it counts as a dfab reader insert as well.

“It’s not like you to be so shy, liebling.”

Strade pressed a hand into your hair, tangling his fingers in the thick strands before giving it a firm, if almost playful yank backwards. Forcing your bound body straight against his and making you look down the camera lens, a blinking red light reflecting in your glassy, unfocused eyes. Reminding you of an audience constantly watching, waiting for something brutal to happen, something that they had been promised.

“Normally you’re so eager for anything I give you.”

The blade of a very familiar hunting knife pressed against your throat, making you raise your chin a little more to avoid being cut into. You let out a shuddering sigh through your nose and a soft murmur of fright managed to slip past your lips, despite them being sealed with the same duct tape that messily bound your wrists. He ran gloved knuckles down your burning, tear-streaked cheek and he chuckled at each of your frightened gestures and flinches, almost fondly. It was difficult not to keen against each of his soft touches though, you received them so rarely. Any context where he was gentle with you was worth celebrating. 

“Cute.” He purred with an unseen smirk, stroking down your neck and to your shuddering chest. “But I think you’re trying to hide yourself.” 

The knife easily slipped down the front of your loose shirt, occasionally nicking your skin, and cutting through the fabric with such little effort that it made you squirm. With the front of your shirt cut open, Strade easily tugged the shredded fabric down your arms, exposing your naked chest to the camera and so to his waiting audience. You let out a muffled shriek of outrage, flinching and fighting against each harsh movement, though your outrage (naturally) just encouraged Strade to be rougher with you, a dirty laugh tumbling from his lips.

“I think you don’t want people to know who you really are.” He continued, his voice growing deep and dangerous as he effortlessly pinned you still against his broad body, so low you could possibly convince yourself that he was speaking just for you. “You put forward this...” He let out a short laugh through his nose. “This act of being a good person, a normal person, when really, you’re just as bad as I am. Just as sick, just as awful.”

Even through his mask, you could feel his sharp-toothed grin against your neck as his hand drifted back up to roughly and obscenely grope your chest. You let out a short yelp of surprise against your gag, feeling your face burn as you trembled under his rough assault on you. The knife started to drift down too, the blade tracing a thin, red and bloody line down your neck, down your chest, down to your shaking stomach. Blood streaked your pale skin, clammy with fright, and the shallow wound burned as if he were a fire.

You could only imagine what terrible comments and suggestions the chat were leaving for him. Probably asking him to cut a hole in you and fuck the wound, tangle your guts around his cock and give himself another tight space to fuck since he had already fucked you too loose to be of any value to anyone. 

Though maybe that was your own fucked-up mind projecting your fucked-up fantasies on people who were just as fucked-up as you were. 

Though deep down, you know that you were probably the worst one of the bunch. And he knew that too. 

“That’s why I kept you, you know.” His voice has dipped into an almost seductive growl (which you really, REALLY shouldn’t have found as attractive as you did) as he circled the tip of the knife around your pierced belly button, teasing you with danger and violence that you were so accustomed to in your association of him. You couldn’t take your eyes off the knife if you tried to. “And that’s why I’m going to keep you forever. I mean, who else could satisfy you the way I can, hm?~” 

The knife wasn’t plunged into your stomach, thankfully, but it did leave a bloody trail further down your body and to your slightly parted legs. He oh-so-casually dragged a deep, bleeding gash into your already scarred thigh, wordlessly telling you to open your legs for him, for the camera. You didn’t even react to such cruel treatment anymore; you just did as you were instructed to without even a blink. 

“You’re excited...” He said with a breathless chuckle, running the dull side of the knife against the shamefully wet fold in your underwear. You attempted to look away, but that didn’t stop the soft moan at the back of your throat, nor did it stop the tremble of pleasure that coursed down your spine when he pressed on your underwear again. “Oh, liebling, I knew I wanted to show you off for a reason.”

You knew that this was all he was going to give you. 

He would let you dry-hump a fucking hunter's knife to get off and this was him being generous.

And who were you to turn down his generosity? 

You let out a resigned huff through your nose and subtly jut your hips against the knife, again and again, rubbing your clothed cunt against the dull, cold metal. The stimulus was barely there, but it was enough to make you shudder in his arms, even more so when he started to play with your nipples, tugging at the piercings and purring indecipherable German sweet talk, just for you to hear. Your clit twinged painfully under the thin fabric of your underwear, which was quickly becoming sodden with pre-cum, your own excitement from being in such a provocative position.

You shifted your body a little in an attempt to press your cunt harder against the knife, and to your surprise, he let you, even pressing it against the sodden fabric a little more firmly. His breathing was heavy and stuttered, and his body was subtly trembling against your own. His own hips jutted against your backside and you could feel his hard cock through his trousers.

With a mind delirious on their own pleasure, you wondered how you had gotten here, grinding your cunt against a knife that had killed so many before and after you, as a serial killer, who routinely tortured you for his own amusement and sadistic pleasure, got off to the sight of it.

You couldn’t possibly be blamed for succumbing to your own pleasure, going under and drowning in it.

**Author's Note:**

> i kept hearing girls on film over the stereo at work and i've been thinking about this very image literally all day LET ME LIIIIIIVE 
> 
> stade is big sexy and continues to be big, terrible sexy and i hate him for it 
> 
> https://ivegotsomesweetthings.tumblr.com/


End file.
